


Elf Midwife

by SonataUndine



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Annoyed!Thorin, Birth, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2018-09-03 18:45:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8726020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonataUndine/pseuds/SonataUndine
Summary: Thorin never thought he would have to play midwife to an elf, and Elrond isn't exactly keen on the idea either. Alternate version of the company's visit to Rivendell. Mpreg.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Repost. Deleted several months ago for reasons that I mostly forgot...so here you go!

Elrond was panting quickly, but steadily, one hand absently gripping his injured shoulder. He was sitting upon a large robe, the only thing separating him from the dirt floor of the underground cavern he and Thorin were holed up in. 

“That’s it, keep breathing,” Thorin said, uselessly. “Your elf-kin will be here any minute to slay those orcs and take you back to Rivendell.”

Elrond responded with a low moan. “I-I don’t think I can make it back to Imladris at this point. I may need to deliver here.”

“That is not an option,” Thorin said. “You will not make an elf-midwife out of me! You are forbidden to push until you are back among your own kind, and that is final.” The words were spoken without an ounce of humor, but Elrond smiled nonetheless.

“I would be happy to follow your orders, master Dwarf, but I’m afraid my child does not have the same manners that I do.”

Thorin’s face was dead serious. “Don’t. Push.”

“I will not be able to fight it much longer,” the Elf said, the smile disappearing from his face. “Believe me, this is the last place I wanted to do this, and, while I am happy not to be alone, you are not exactly my first choice in companionship.” Elrond winced and curled in on himself, panting again. “ _Ai!_ This is more difficult than I had expected!”

“Have you not three other children?” Thorin asked, puzzled.

“Four,” Elrond automatically corrected, softly. “My wife, Celebrian…” His eyes grew misty, for no amount of time would ever heal the wound her absence left in him. “Celebrian birthed my twin sons, and my daughter many years later.”

“And the fourth?”

Elrond smiled. “He is my nephew, though I think of him as my own. The lad is still a child, scarcely ten years old.”

“Then you have never done this before,” Thorin said, suddenly a lot more worried than he was five minutes ago. Elrond shook his head, his face scrunched up in pain once again. His breathing was becoming louder and more panicked.

“The child is low, master Dwarf. Would you be willing to help me undress?” Elrond asked, trying his best to remain calm.

The simple answer was “no.” Thorin was far from willing to participate in any part of this ordeal happening before him. But he took pity on the Elf, for it was obvious that assistance was needed. Thorin may have disliked elves, but he wasn’t heartless. He reached out and helped Elrond remove soft breeches and undergarments, leaving the long tunic in place.

“Thank you,” Elrond said, earnestly. “My shoulder has become very stiff; that task would have been impossible without you.”

“You can thank me by not pushing,” Thorin said, once again taking a seat opposite from the Elf. Elrond nodded.

“I will hold out as long as I can.”

Thorin sighed, heavily. How had he gotten stuck in this awful situation in the first place?

* * *

  _24 hours earlier…_

_“If we are to be successful this will need to be handled with tact and respect, and no small degree of charm…which is why you will leave the talking to me.”_

“That is what I said, is it not?” Gandalf said, his anger seeming to fill the small room that was to be Thorin’s chambers for the time being.

“Word for word,” Thorin responded, at once annoyed and bored of Gandalf constantly harping on his every word and action.

“Then why, Thorin son of Thráin, were the first words from your mouth chosen specifically to antagonize our generous host?”

“I wasn’t trying to antagonize him,” Thorin said, half-truthfully. “I was merely commenting on something I found peculiar.”

“You told him you had ‘never seen a fat elf before,’ moments after he greeted you respectfully by name.”

Thorin smiled at the memory. “Father would be proud.”

“Your father was a mad fool!” Gandalf roared. Thorin winced at the insult and fell silent. Gandalf shook his head, and his tangible anger seemed to fade, making the room seem more spacious than it did moments ago. “Forgive me, that was unkind," the wizard said, gently. He sat beside Thorin on the freshly made bed. “If it was not obvious, let me inform you that you may inform the rest of your companions: The Lord of Rivendell is with child. That is, of course, why his midsection is rounded while he otherwise remains slender.”

Thorin opened his mouth to speak, but Gandalf interrupted, “Not now, Thorin. I am in no mood to answer the questions of a curious dwarf tonight. Just understand that it is a long, confusing story that is Elrond’s to tell, not mine. Now, you will act your age and apologize to him in the morning, is that clear?”

 _“Not in a thousand ages,”_ Thorin wanted to say, but he nodded curtly instead. He was ready for this conversation to be over with.

“Good. Now, get some rest. The elves are going orc-hunting again in the morning. As we are the ones who led the orcs so close to the border, I think it is only right that some of us go with them, as a sign of good faith. Is that acceptable to you?”

Thorin nodded again. He certainly didn’t mind killing orcs.

“As long as the elves stay out of my way. And I will _not_ be riding a horse.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Gandalf said, absently, as he stood up. “Well then, until tomorrow.”

“Yes, until tomorrow.”

Thorin waited until Gandalf was gone to lie back on the soft, cool bedclothes and chuckle quietly to himself.

_“_ _Child or no child…I saw a fat elf today!”_


	2. Chapter 2

“Would you please just sit down? You’re wasting your energy doing that,” Thorin said as he watched Elrond continue to pace back and forth across the tiny space of the cavern.

“It helped my wife get through a very long labor with the twins,” the Elf explained. He stopped and leaned heavily against the nearest wall, one arm clutching his rounded middle. “Be patient, little one,” he muttered softly, “You’re supposed to be born safe at home, not out here among enemies.”

Thorin knew that Elrond meant the orcs, but the softly uttered comment still felt like a personal attack. He crossed his arms.

“It will be your own fault when your strength is spent before your child is born.”

Elrond calmly resumed his pacing, and Thorin growled in annoyance.

“Fine. Do as you like,” he said. “If you’re too arrogant to take advice from a lowly Dwarf, then so be it.”

Elrond stopped again and shot Thorin a heated glare before doubling over with a sharp cry.

“Elrond?” Thorin ventured, though he was determined not to sound too concerned.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Elrond responded just before he fell to his knees, his eyes shut tight against the pain. The ground between his legs was suddenly wet.

“Damn it, tell me that isn’t what I think it is,” Thorin said, already knowing the answer.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Elrond replied, catching his breath as the contraction ended. He raised his head and wearily locked eyes with Thorin, his pain and exhaustion plain to see. “I am going to need to push soon.”

It became immediately clear that “soon” meant the very next contraction. Elrond barely had time to step over to the soft cloak before the pain returned, much stronger now that the pressure in his lower abdomen had been released.

“Don’t you dare—" Thorin warned, but Elrond was already on his hands and knees, bearing down. The Elf moaned, long and low, then quickly went back to panting.

“I’m sorry. I could not wait any longer,” he gasped, apologetically.

Thorin just shook his head, defeated. He knew as well as any Dwarf that a child comes when it is ready, and not a moment sooner or later. He winced in sympathy as Elrond pushed again, another low moan escaping the Elf’s lips.

Thorin kept his distance over the next half hour as Elrond dealt with ever stronger and ever lengthening contractions, the Elf pushing when he could gather the strength, gasping when he could not.

“Be patient, Elf,” Thorin said at the end of a particularly difficult contraction during which Elrond had begun to push, but had given up halfway through when he found that no progress was being made. “Just wait for your people to come. It seems clear the child is not ready to come out yet.” The Dwarf’s tone was not harsh, but not particularly sympathetic either.

Elrond shook his head, flinging sweat from dark, dampened hair.

“That is just the problem; the pains are getting stronger, but the child does not come.” Elrond moaned through the next contraction, his whole body shuddering until the squeezing of his insides abated once again.

“Something is wrong,” the Elf muttered, almost too low for Thorin to hear. But hear it he did.

Thorin was well aware of Elrond’s status as a healer of no small skill. He knew that Elrond had attended many births, that the Elf understood the pounding rhythms and the slow, intense stretching and tearing that accompanies a child’s entrance into the world. Thus, Thorin knew that Elrond was right when he said something was wrong. And that made Thorin truly afraid. It was at that moment that Thorin realized he could no longer remain a reluctant bystander in this event. He was about to become an active participant.

Thorin watched in horror as Elrond began to push again, a low moan suddenly transforming into a sharp, surprised cry. The Elf reached between his legs to feel for the child, and his eyes widened in undisguised panic.

“No, no, no, no, no…No!” he cried as he began to hyperventilate.

Thorin was beside him in an instant.

“What’s wrong, what is it?” He was already cuffing up his sleeves, hardly aware of his own movements.

“F-feet…H-his feet,” Elrond gasped out. “I don’t understand…His head was down yesterday!”

“Try to stay calm. Just don’t push for a minute, we may be able to turn him still—” The Dwarf was cut off by a loud moan of agony, a sound he had heard only once before as he waited for news of his second nephew’s birth.

And just like that, Thorin was involved. He got behind Elrond and reached between the Elf’s legs, no time to ask permission, no time to consider how intimate he had suddenly become with an _Elf_ of all things. Terror gripped Thorin’s stomach as his hands found what they were searching for. The babe was already out to its buttocks. Thorin swallowed.

“All right, listen to me. You’re going to have to deliver her breech. Do you understand? We’ll need to get her out as quickly as possible before she suffocates.”

“Sh-She?” Elrond said, still in a state of shock.

“Yes, my lord, it’s a girl.”

Elrond released a short laugh, which may have just been another gasp.

“Arwen will be pleased,” he declared. Another contraction pulsed through him, and he pushed with it. Thorin kept his hands between Elrond’s legs, feeling for progress. There was none. He took a deep breath. If this child was to be born alive, it had to be now.

* * *

_Earlier this morning…_

“ _Adar_ , I really think you should remain at home until the child is born,” Elladan insisted as Elrond did up the straps of his horse’s saddle.

“You are worrying too much, _ion nin_. It will be at least another week or two before it is time to meet this little one”

Elladan shook his head. “You should not be in combat in your condition!”

“Then be at peace, for I am not going to fight,” Elrond responded, steadily. “I am going to oversee and observe, from a distance. I want to keep an eye on those Dwarves, and perhaps find out what their true motives are for their strange journey.”

The Elves were startled by a sudden knock on the edge of the stable door.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Thorin said, without a trace of apology in his voice. “I am just here to retrieve some ponies for my nephews and myself.”

“I’m afraid you will only find horses in Rivendell, master Dwarf,” Elrond said, kindly. “I can have the stirrups raised for you, if you wish. I certainly would not recommend going on foot.

“ _Damn that wizard!_ ” Thorin cursed under his breath. “Yes, I suppose high stirrups will have to do.” He glanced warily at Elrond’s horse, standing at nearly twice Thorin’s height.

Elladan left to prepare three horses for their Dwarf guests, leaving Thorin alone with Elrond.

“Did you need something else, master Dwarf?” Elrond politely asked.

“No, I just—well, yes. Gandalf insisted that I come apologize to you, so if he asks…Could you just tell him I apologized?”

“That wouldn’t exactly be the truth, would it?” Elrond smiled at the Dwarf’s discomfort.

“Well, I’m not sorry for what I said, but I apologize if I upset you. Fair enough?” Thorin said, offering his hand. Elrond chuckled, accepting the hand shake.

“Fair enough.”


End file.
